


still needs tending to

by safestorms



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-20 21:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safestorms/pseuds/safestorms
Summary: Naomi thinks Holden isn't cut out for the responsibility of manager at the cafe where they both work but she comes to see him in a new light.





	still needs tending to

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my google docs. It's been there for a while because I couldn't quite get it to work but I decided to just post it. 
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely people who helped me look over this fic and gave me feedback. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

“You do know that doing that is only going to do more damage to it, right?” Naomi asks as Holden shakes the _Cant’s_ coffee machine which has decided to break down just before the start of the early morning rush.

Holden backs away from the machine reluctantly, one hand pushing his frankly _ridiculous_ hipster glasses up his nose in frustration and the other clutching the instruction manual like a lifeline, with the air of a desperate man on a sinking ship who’s about to drown. It makes Naomi want to laugh because what would a white man like Holden know about drowning? Naomi knows all too well what it means to be doing all you can to keep your head above water.

“I just need _one_ fucking cup before we open. And _this_ ,” he says, waving the instruction manual around in the air, “must be in another language. I can’t understand a fucking word.”

“Okay, just let me fix it and go do something useful in the meantime before you destroy our coffee machine like the _last_ time,” she sighs, waving him off. Holden gives it one last mournful look like he’s saying goodbye to a dear friend before he turns away.

 _Please_ , she thinks, _Just one good moment today. That’s all I ask_. It’s all she dare ask. This has been her litany, her mantra to herself ever since she’d run away, came here to disappear from herself.

She doesn’t need her exasperating co-worker-turned-supervisor testing her patience right now. Rumour has it that he’s slept with half the staff and some of the customers to boot. For some reason, their boss has seen fit to make him the newly appointed manager since their previous one left. Holden has been protesting it for days now. Secretly, Naomi agrees with him that he’s not cut out for that responsibility. After all, the man can’t even repair a machine without making a fuss and nearly destroying it in the process. He's probably never cared to fix anything in his life.

Holden disappears to the back then, leaving Naomi to fix the machine by herself. She hums as she opens it up to take a look inside. There’s something soothing, almost comforting about taking things apart and putting them back together, about using her hands to repair things. If only people were as easy to fix.

The early morning light slants through the cafe windows, tinting everything with its golden glow. Naomi remembers suddenly sitting in the Engineering library when she was a uni student, sunlight painting the room gold as she’d pored over her textbooks in fascination and delight at this bright new world opening up to her - the mechanics of how things _work._ If only she could go back in time, go back to that moment when the world had seemed full of possibility, golden and hers for the taking. She knows better now.

“Damn,” she mutters to herself. She needs a screwdriver. She remembers vaguely seeing one in the storage cupboard at the back.

She’s rummaging around in there when she hears voices coming from the break room. She doesn’t mean to overhear but the walls are thin and the break room is right near the storage cupboard. She can hear Holden’s gravelly voice distinctly, “I got us tickets to that play you’ve been wanting to see next month.”

“Holden, you know I’m leaving next week, right? I’ve already handed in my notice to quit. You knew, we were only ever going to be temporary?” a second voice joins hers that sounds like it belongs to Ade, their co-worker. Naomi wonders when Ade had come in. She must have been so lost in her work on the machine that she hadn’t even noticed. Working on things, fixing them, is her one escape from the real world but reality always comes rushing back in.

“Yes, of course,” Holden says, sounding anything but, like this is new information to him. Naomi is hardly surprised - the man seems a bit dense - but she’s starting to feel uncomfortable for accidentally overhearing a private conversation and she’s had enough of their lovers’ spat or whatever this is.

Naomi slams the cupboard door close with a loud bang to let them know that she’s there. The voices stop abruptly and both of them come out of the break room just then.

“Oh hi Naomi,” Ade says breezily.

“Morning,  I’m fixing our coffee machine.”

“Not _again_. How many times has it been this month? They should really get a new one.”

Holden scrubs a hand over his face, his eyes looking tired, his face like a shattering mirror.  “Yeah, the day that happens is the day when I get lucky and win the lottery. ”

Naomi frowns. “There must be _something_ we can do.”

Holden heaves a pained sigh. ”You could talk to the boss until you’re blue in the face and he’s still not going to give a shit. I’ll be out back if anyone needs me.”  

Naomi’s had enough of this conversation. “Okay. I’ve got to go. I have a coffee machine to fix.”

*

It’s pouring outside the _Cant_ , the rain turning the world into a wild waterworks, the streets transformed into a dreary rain-soaked grey like nature is reflecting Naomi’s mood right back to her. The cafe is packed with people seeking shelter from the storm and on top of that it’s rush hour with everyone scrambling to get caffeinated before starting their work day.

Naomi feels tired, the kind of tired that settles deep within her bones, that no amount of sleep can cure. _Just one moment_ , she thinks as she pushes on through her shift. Just a few more hours until she can get home to soak in the tub with bath salts she’s been saving for herself as a treat all week.

Someone bumps into Naomi, _hard_ , as she’s serving a table with her order. She feels like the air has been knocked out of her as she scrambles for balance. Her foot ends up tangled in something and before she knows it, she’s on the floor, broken plates and food scattered everywhere, hot coffee dripping down her arms and her hands feeling like they’re on fire. Pain searing through her, she looks around to find a laptop extension cord lying by her feet which must have been what tripped her.

She’s just finished apologizing to the customers and assuring them she’ll take care of it when Holden comes up besides her, his ridiculous glasses askew. The look on his face stops her in her tracks. He looks like he’s genuinely concerned for her welfare instead of annoyed at her like she thought he would be.

“Are you okay? Wait...you’re bleeding.” The urgency of his tone sends a jolt through her. She hadn’t expected his voice to sound so soft and _worried_ and least of all for it to be directed at her. Because of her.

She lets out a breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.“Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I find the first aid kit? Sam can take care of this,” he continues gently.

She follows him to the small staff room in the back where he starts banging open cupboard doors. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

“Oh right,” he says sheepishly.  

In the dingy staff toilet, she washes as much sticky coffee off her skin as she can and swipes at the stains on her shirt. After she splashes water on her face, she looks at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looks back at her, weary, a bit shaken but otherwise mostly composed. This’ll have to do for now. Time for her game face. After all, she’s had years to practise and perfect it. She’s a woman who’s had the worst thing she could ever imagine happening to her and yet she’s managed to come back from it alive.  

When she comes back out, Holden’s rummaging through the first aid kit, pulling out bandages, tubes of cream, antiseptic wipes and making a right mess of it. “Where the fuck is the antiseptic cream?” he growls. He looks up when she enters the room.

“Everything okay?” he asks, tone shifting from grouchy to something much gentler.

She nods, caught off guard by the softness in his gaze. “It’s just some scrapes and cuts. Not deep. I’ll live.”

“Still needs tending to,” he murmurs. The way he’s looking at her makes her skin tingle. He doesn’t look like he’s buying her facade of nonchalance. Naomi doesn’t know when the last time was that someone had looked closely enough to see that she’s putting on an act. The last time someone had cared enough to pay attention to her. Naomi’s used to blending into the background by now, an unconscious defense mechanism her body's learned through blood and tears. It's wired into her by now so much so that it feels strange being looked at with _care_ and feeling herself respond with something other than trepidation.

He looks guilty now. “It’s my fault that this happened to you. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt on my watch. It’s my responsibility to make sure that workplace health and safety standards are being maintained. There shouldn’t have been any hazards for you to trip over.” He sighs like he’s genuinely pained by this and that he’s having a shit day too before gently taking her hand in his.  “Tell me if I’m being too rough, okay?”

She nods. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m not a doctor but I figure I can use a first aid kit.”

" _Right._ Because that makes me feel a whole lot better. _”_

“Relax,” he grins at her. “I did a first aid course when I was sixteen. Used to dream of saving the world when I was growing up on the family farm.”

“Okay  _now_ you’ve done it. I totally and completely trust you with my life.”

That gets a chuckle out of him and surprisingly, she does feel a lot calmer. He starts off with an antiseptic wipe which he dabs slowly and carefully over her wounds. She winces at the first touch. He stops then, looking up at her, brows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. Well yes. It just hurts when something touches it. You’re not doing anything wrong. I’m just being a bit of a baby about it.”

She can’t help noticing as he continues, how attentively he’s cleaning her wounds as he cradles her hand in his. How he’s poring over them with the concentration of a surgeon doing brain surgery. “You’re not, you know,” he murmurs slowly as he carefully dabs cream on her cuts.

“What?”

“Making a big deal out of nothing. You get to hurt when you hurt. ”

Naomi’s head is spinning and she’s struggling to reconcile _this_ Holden with the self-righteous irresponsible arsehole she’d thought he was.She shakes her head, trying to shake off those thoughts but instead of doing that, she’s embarrassed to feel tears springing to her eyes.

“You okay?” Holden asks, when he sees her face.

“I’m sorry,” she says and goddamn why is she apologizing? “I’m just having a bad day.” And maybe its that her nerves are so fucking frazzled that she finds her walls crumbling, letting slip information about herself she’d usually never share with anyone, let alone a white man who she’d _used_ to think was an arrogant jerk. Maybe it's also because he’s being so goddamn _nice_ and it’s been so long since anyone has treated her like she deserves tenderness instead of bruises. She’d thought she’s forgotten what being safe feels like. She’d thought she’d never get it back. “I just feel like I keep screwing up.”

His eyes soften. “I’m sorry. But hey, you’re also talking to someone who knows a thing or two about failing.” He looks away then and she's about to reach out when he turns to face her abruptly, a smile back on his face. “Here. All done. How about a muffin? I know _I_ could use one. Alex makes some killer muffins that always make me feel better when _I’m_ having a bad day.”

A few minutes later, she’s settled in on the couch in the backroom with a muffin that tastes like heaven and possibility. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she can breathe. And perhaps the worst - maybe best - thing of all is that she’s starting to find those ridiculous glasses ridiculously hot.   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback is appreciated or you can message me on tumblr @ safestorms.


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